


Prague, 2009

by duh_i_read (duh_i_write)



Category: Buffy the Vampire Slayer
Genre: F/M, Future Fic, Non-Canon Relationship
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-11-12
Updated: 2011-11-12
Packaged: 2017-10-25 23:38:11
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 407
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/276110
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/duh_i_write/pseuds/duh_i_read
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Giles, in the wet streets of Prague.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Prague, 2009

**Author's Note:**

> Post- Chosen, non-comic compliant future fic known as my vague personal cannon where the gang fight demons all over the world and are awesome.

Giles doesn’t have a slayer’s grace, not as a younger man and certainly not now, so he leaves the running through the rain slick streets of Prague to the thirteen young girls with power coiled under their skin. He perches on a low wall, umbrella curved in the crook of his arm and crossbow in hand, waiting in case a stray slips the trap.

The sound of the rain on cobblestones disguises any footfalls, but not the animal growl and the harsh sound of Czech tumbling over jagged fangs. He turns, just enough so when the vampire pounces they are facing one another when they fall on the ground. Giles strikes him in the face with the crossbow before both his weapon and umbrella are ripped from his hands and tossed somewhere behind them. He thinks with gallows humor at least he doesn’t know the vampire worrying his scarf with his teeth when a crack of lighting illuminates his savior in black and white, poised to strike. The vampire vanishes with the light, leaving them alone, flanked by dim spills of streetlight.

He allows Faith to pull her to his feet. She’s soaked, rivulets of water traveling down her face and pooling in the dips of her collarbone, gathering in the tight fabric of her shirt and sliding off the leather of her coat.

“Can’t be hurt to bad if you’re starring at my tit’s.” Faith’s glib words are undercut by the press of her hand on his chest and another across his neck,searching for his thudding pulse and unbroken skin.

“I’m fine,” he said as the hand at his neck curves around his head and the other twists the lapel of his coat. He knows what she seeks and does not rebuke her as her lips slide over his. He savors the taste of her.

Before long, the rain will thin enough for him to hear the slayer’s return, many whom herald their victory up the narrow lanes with such joy in their voice he will not help but smile. Faith will break away, still cuddled to him, and the slayer’s cries will change. There will be questions and adolescent bewilderment and catcalls which Faith will address with blunt efficiently. She will address is tentative invitation to his narrow hotel room in the same manner.

Now, there is the warmth from her embrace and the addictive taste of her beer tart and evening cool lips.


End file.
